


But My Ship Won't Sink

by bikai



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, But just slight burrens, Hamburr, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Murder, Pirate!AU, Pirates, Uuuhh, basically just pirates with feelings, burrens - Freeform, hamilburr, just a lil, not a lot, ships, yeah that's a thing now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:18:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikai/pseuds/bikai
Summary: Barges, I would like to go with you,I would like to sail the ocean blue.Barges, have your treasures in your hold?Do you fight with pirates brave and bold?Out of my window looking in the night,I can see the barges flickering light.Surely flows the river to the sea,As the barges go by silently.Barges, I would like to go with you,I would like to sail the ocean blue.Barges, have your treasures in your hold?Do you fight with pirates brave and bold?Out of my window looking in the nightI can see the barges flickering light.Taking their cargo out into the sea,How I wish someday they would take me.Barges, I would like to go with you,I would like to sail the ocean blue.Barges, have your treasures in your hold?Do you fight with pirates brave and bold?How my heart wants to sail away with you,As you sail across the ocean blue.But I must stay beside my window clear,As the barges sail away from here.Barges, I would like to go with youI would like to sail the ocean blue.Barges, have you treasures in your hold?Do you fight with pirates brave and bold?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> pirate au anyone?? I'm back and ready to write some shit  
> also i only slightly know how to write pirate like from the Redwall books so this is gonna be a super iffy one
> 
> I figured I owed to you guys to upload at least a little bit after my eighty year hiatus, so I spilt this thing up into three chapters
> 
> TW for mentioned rape/non-con even though it didn't really happen??? idk I don't want to spoil it but yeah

There was something about the ocean that drew Aaron to it.

He'd always taken a liking to it, ever since he was little. There was something about the wide, never ending blue stretch of water that filled him with a sense of exploration and determination. When he was a small boy, he would sneak out in the middle of the night and stand on the shore near his home and stare out at the line where the black night sky met the navy blue waves of the sea. The moon would hang high on the sky, making the waves glow in the night, like one giant blanket of silver. He would stand on the shore and stare out into the distance for hours sometimes, smelling the salt and the sand in the air, hearing the waves crash gently against the shore, seeing the palm trees and the spindly green grass bend and sway with the breeze. He would stand and stare until his mother came out and scooped him up, scolding him quietly and carrying him back to his bed.

And even then, he would sit up in his bed in his loose nightshirt, surrounded by the down comforter, and listen to the windchime made of seaglass his mother had hung in the window clink together in the soft island breeze. He would stare out the window and watch the ships pass by, with the lanterns on their decks glowing like little stars in the darkness of the night. He would stay up until his eyelids felt as heavy as lead and then he would lay down in his too-big bed and let the moonlight cast shadows over him as he was pulled down by the warm tendrils of sleep.

But those days were long behind him now.

Here he stood, twenty years after his parents had died in a midnight pirate raid, in his room in his uncle's large seaside house. The window was open wide, and the curtains billowed out into his bedroom with the warm breeze. He sighed, adjusting the collar of his shirt one last time before moving on to the buttons of his black sleeveless waistcoat. He and his older sister were headed out to town for lunch and a quick walk. He wished that was what had happened instead of what did. 

Walking over to the open window, he looked out over the green brush that marked the edge of the yard, before it gave way to crystal white sand and eventually teal-blue water. If he had turned his head to the side out the window, he would have seen the pirate ship that had docked just off the north coast of the island, near the back of the mansion. Sally hated it, but their uncle lived on the very north end of the island, a good ten minute walk from the actual town. 

“Aaron?” Sally came into the room in a light purple hoop skirt gown, her dark curls thrown up into a messy bun on her head. He turned away from the window and smiled at her. “Come on, let’s go!” 

“That's a little fancy for a day on the town, isn't it?”

Sally shrugged and smiled. “You never know who might be there.” She elbowed him in the ribs knowingly and he rolled his eyes.

“Do you ever think of anything other than the desirable men in this town?” He asked her, amused, as they walked down the hall to the stairs. 

“Oh, please. I know you have the same thing on your mind from time to time. You and your _men_.”

He sent her a glare.

“Or...women.” She corrected herself reluctantly, than winked, knowing full well where his true interests lay. He snorted and rolled his eyes as they reached the landing. “I'm serious, Aaron! You need to find a nice person to come and sweep you off your feet! You're not getting any younger you know.” She joked and then laughed when he gawked at her in dismay.

“I'm only twenty-two!”

The two of them laughed as they mounted the stairs but something along the way made Aaron stop. Sally must've not heard it, because she kept moving for a couple steps before turning and looking at him quizzically.

“I thought I heard-”

Something like glass shattered in the back of the house. They both fell silent and instinctively retreated back up the stairs. There was a loud thump, then voices. Someone had just broken into the house. Aaron pushed Sally back by her shoulders.

“Go to your room and lock the door.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do it!”

“I'm the oldest I should be the one-”

“Dammit, Sally, would you just go? I'll be up in a minute, everything will be fine.” Something in his voice must have scared her because she turned gray and nodded silently. He waited until she had walked quickly all the way down the hall and until he heard her door close softly, before he moved slowly and silently down the stairs. He stopped at the bottom to listen for any noise, and flinched when he heard something heavy crash and fall. Whoever they were obviously didn't care about being quiet.

Aaron peered over into the den across from the staircase, particularly at his father's sword, still sheathed, hanging on pegs above the mantel. More shuffling sounded from the back. Aaron peered over the banister, down the hall. He watched, and was about to make a dash for the den when someone stepped out into the hall. Aaron retreated behind the banister quickly, his heart pounding. 

_‘Pirates, pirates, pirates, I knew it. I knew they'd come while Timothy was away.’_

He listened for any sign that the pirate had seen him but there was nothing. Just the sound of boots, heavy and slow, like the feet were made of lead. They faded after several painstaking moments, and the pirate must have moved into a different room. Aaron leaned over the banister again and peered out slowly. There was no one there. He glanced towards the den once more before making a mad dash for the room, bounding over in two steps until he was in and out of sight. The wooden floorboards creaked a little underneath his feet. He winced, stopped, and listened. 

Silence.

Being as quick and light as an athletic young man in his early twenties could, he moved over to the mantel and reached up towards the sword. Looking over his shoulder cautiously, he took the sword and its belt down and hooked it around his waist. Drawing the sword, he marveled for a single moment at how well it fit in his hand. The blade was long and slim, like that of a rapier, and it caught the sunlight in a way that blinded him temporarily. The dome-shaped hilt was made of solid silver, and had elaborate, lace-like etchings into the metal. The hilt was wrapped in smooth black leather, and the sapphire pommel stone sat below it in a bed of silver. 

Aaron snapped back into the present by another loud noise from the back, this time followed by voices. Aaron moved closer to the threshold so he could hear.

“By God, you could at least try to be quiet!”

“And why should I do that? There's not a damn person here!”

A new voice, gruffer and more stern. The captain, possibly? 

“Shut it, both of you! Shut it, or I'll gut you and wear your skin for my cape and leave your livers to the buzzards!”

Aaron rolled his eyes. Definitely pirates, definitely the captain. At least they thought the house was empty. Then he'd have the element of surprise. Footsteps caught his attention, and he stopped breathing. They grew closer and louder and closer and louder, and then there was the creak of wood as the pirate mounted the stairs. His mind flashed to his sister, higding upstairs in her room behind the locked door. He had to do something.

Without sparing time to think of an actual plan, he jumped out from behind the threshold and drew the saber. The pirate whirled on him, obviously surprised. He stood at least a head taller than him, and had only one foot on the staircase. Again, not really fully aware of what he was doing, in a moment of blind panic, Aaron swung the sword upwards. The blow hit his shoulder, and the pirate cried out in agony as both his hands went to the bloody area. As he was distracted, Aaron sprinted down the hall towards the noise.

He skidded to a stop in front of the dining room, where most of the commotion had come from, and realized he had a very big problem. There were three of them in the room, one with a small burlap sack and was in the middle of filling it with silver chalices and his mother's old china. What was his plan again? They all stared at him in shock for a moment, then seemed to realize who he was at the same time.

“Get him!” One yelled, and almost instantly, another one drew his sword and started moving towards him. Aaron tightened his hand around his own bloody sword, and darted to the side, towards the opposite end of the long mahogany table. He ran right into another pirate, who grabbed him in a vice grip by the shoulders. He managed to wrestle himself loose enough to slam the hilt of his sword fiercely into his chest, sending him tumbling back, the breath knocked out of him. Aaron hopped over him to the other end of the table, facing the pirate who had first drawn his sword. The two of them stood for a moment, and then the pirate hopped up onto the table in one smooth motion. He started to approach, and it was a moment of quick thinking that saved Aaron's life. He grabbed the white lace table cloth the pirate was on and pulled with all his might, hoping to God that it would not rip and leave him standing there like an imbecile with half a tablecloth in his hand. Fortunately, it didn't rip, and instead it came out from beneath his grimy boots fluidly, sending him tumbling down onto his ass on the table. 

He groaned as Aaron dropped the tablecloth and turned to the pirate he had knocked to the ground. He had gotten up now and was coming at Aaron with his blade drawn. He swung the saber above his head and brought it down. Aaron responded at the last second, sticking out his own blade just in time. Their blades met with a metallic clang that sent vibrations up Aaron's arm all the way to his shoulder. The pirate brought his blade back with a grimace and swiped upwards this time, towards Aaron's face. He met the blow with his own blade again, but the force was so strong the pirates blade slid from Aaron's own and cut across his shoulder. He yelped in pain and stumbled backwards, raising his sword just in time to block another blow. Unfortunately, the pain was too much and his sword fell from his hands from the force of it. 

Aaron looked at it laying on the floor, but didn't have time to grab it once the pirate plunged his sword towards his stomach. Aaron had no choice but to catch the blade in his own hands, slicing open both palms. He grimaced, his body overwhelmed with pain. Warm, dark blood seeped out between his fingers and dripped onto the wood floor. The pirate smiled wickedly, knowing he had the upper hand. Then, he pushed on the handle, and the blade slid across Aaron's unprotected palms, slicing the skin even more. Each second passed, the bloodied sword grew closer and closer to Aaron's stomach as agony seeped deep into his muscles.

The man that had been stuffing the burlap sack full of silverware ran up and slashed Aaron in the back of his legs with a small pocket blade, making him drop painfully onto his knees. The pirate pulled his sword from Aaron's grip and sheathed it, satisfied. Aaron started to reach for his saber still on the ground, but the pirate behind him brought a silver candlestick down onto the back of his head, and Aaron yelped and bent down, his bloody hands on the floor. Fresh, hot pain flared in the back of his head.

He would have retaliated, or at least tried to, but then the pirate behind him, the burlap sack lover, tossed _another_ burlap sack over Aarons head and tightened it. Aaron's hands immediately went to the sack as it tightened around his neck, half obscuring his airway and completely obscuring his vision. He clawed at the fabric as he was dragged over to the table and forced onto his knees again. He squirmed profusely, but he could feel his strength starting to slip and the world starting to fade away. 

His movements finally ceased once the pirate reared Aaron’s head back and then slammed his forehead against the edge of the table, and the world finally went dark.

 

The sound of the ocean was the first thing he heard when he came to. Darkness. Just the endless sound of the ocean. A gull cried, very faintly. He could hardly breathe. He was hot all over. He opened his eyes, but it was still dark. Where in the hell-

_Oh._

The pirates. The blood. The noises. Get him. The blood. His hands, his legs, his shoulder, his head. God, everything hurt. _His sister._

His sister!

He jolted suddenly, and was surprised to find his hands tied behind his back with thick, coarse rope. He tried to call her name, but there was a gag in his mouth, and all he could make was a strangled yell. It tasted like sweat and dirt. It was probably some pirate’s handkerchief. He gagged. The sack was still over his head, and it felt cakey with dried blood. His blood. He could just barely breathe through the thick fabric.

He tried to pry his wrists apart, to break the rope, but to no avail. His wrists already felt rubbed raw. The room tilted, and he rolled over to the side helplessly and fell into cold metal bars. He realized he was on a ship. Goddammit, they had taken him! Something empty rolled and bumped against his foot, it sounded like a bottle of some sort. He lifted his foot to trap it beneath his boot, and rolled it back and forth. Definitely a bottle. 

He managed to kick it back towards his hip, and then shifted himself so he could grab it with his tied hands. A few labored grunts and awkward shifting later, and he had the bottle held like a weapon in his hands. He brought it back as far as he could with his back arched, and then slammed it down against the metal bars.

_‘Please break, please break, please break.’_

It didn't. He swore as much as he could with the rag in his mouth. One more time. He repeated the motion, and this time, earned a satisfying breaking noise. Third time ought to do it. He brought the bottle down against the bars one last time with all the force he could muster. It broke apart in his hands, and he laughed breathily. 

His fingers scrambled against the wood of the ship floor, searching for a big enough shard to cut the rope. His fingers brushed over a reasonable candidate, about the size of a small milk saucer, with a sharp edge. As he grabbed it fervently, it cut across the wound from earlier that day - or was it yesterday - and he yelped, dropping it uncontrollably. After clenching his fist only to feel the blood already starting to pour, he opened his hand again and searched blindly for the piece of glass. His finger brushed something wet, and he realized it was the same glass shard covered in his blood.

He grabbed it, carefully this time, and maneuvered it so that he could cut the rope. With a satisfied grunt, he began to saw.

 

The sky was blue and cloudless, and the sea was an exact mirror to that. There was the smell of salt and liquor clouding around the ship. The captain stood on the quarter deck, overlooking the entire ship and crew. They were all laughing crazily and some were dancing to the music of a fiddle someone was playing. A celebration. For what? The fact that they'd had a successful raid? Idiots. Drunk, insane _idiots_. The raid was barely successful. A few silver chalices and plates were nothing compared to the amount of gold Timothy Edwards had stored in his vault. 

_Idiots._

“Sir!” 

He turned towards the newcomers. Two of his crew, two of the less bright. 

“What?” The captain grumbled.

“The prisoner should be awake by now.” One of them stuttered. “Should we take care of him yet?”

“Can we make ‘im walk the plank? It's always fun to watch ‘en squirm as they drown.” The other one grinned and elbowed his friend. The two of them chuckled.

“No. We're not gonna kill ‘im, goddamn you.” The captain muttered and rolled his eyes. Why was his crew so damn stupid?

“Aw, why not?”

“Because! Did you see him! He’ll fetch a high price on the market, an able bodied young thing like him. Besides, he's most likely related to Edwards, we can use him as ransom.”

The two made a noise of understanding and nodded before chuckling slowly. 

“Would you fancy some ale, sir? Maybe a wench to help you celebrate?"

“What I would _fancy_ , is to be left alone, goddamnit! Go! Get out of my sight, the bleeding both of you!” He shooed them away angrily and watched, scoffing as they tripped over each other trying to get away from their captain’s temper. 

“Enemy ship on the horizon!” The lookout in the crow’s nest called, and the captain looked up. The lookout was pointing towards a ship to their right that was fastly approaching. He stormed over to the edge of the deck and leaned out. It wasn't a very big ship, smaller than his own. It looked like a damned merchant ship. He snorted.

“What in the hell?”

 

Another layer of rope fell off below his wrists. Aaron smiled around the gag, only two more to go. He could know wiggle his wrists without much restraint, but he still couldn't yank them free. He had been forced to take a few breaks to catch his breath. All he could smell was blood and he could barely even get a full breath in due to the sack still around his head, leaving him dizzy and nauseous.

He was just starting to saw through the next layer of twine when someone yelled from above deck. 

“We’re being boarded men!"

Footsteps, lots of them. It sounded like people were running. Aaron swore inwardly, and started cutting faster, not caring if he cut his hands anymore. A fight meant more pirates, and any pirate would kill him if they found him down here. Aaron paused. But what if they used cannons instead? The ship would sink, and Aaron would be stuck down here with this damn sack over his head as he drowned slowly.

He started sawing frantically.

 

A pair of hands gripped onto the railing of the quarterdeck. The captain turned just as a young man pulled himself up and over the railing. There was a blade clenched between his teeth, and his hair was pulled back from his face in a neat ponytail. As he swung over the railing and retrieved his dagger from his mouth, he grinned. The captain planted his hands on his hips and stood tall, one hand inching towards the hilt of his sword as the young man swaggered casually towards him. The captain took a deep breath and prepared his speech.

“I am Captain Be-”

“I don't care.” The newcomer held his sword up and signaled for him to stop speaking. There was a sudden commotion on deck, and someone shouted:

“We’re being boarded men!”

The captain whirled around and found many different people - both men and women alike - boarding their ship in the same matter this young man had. One of his own crew rushed one woman, yet she countered his attack quickly, slicing a wound across his leg and then pushing him overboard. The crew ran around to get their weapons as the ship was quickly taken over. 

“Who are these-”

“They are my crew.” The young man threw his blade in a glittering arc above his head and caught it deftly with his other hand, looking out across the main deck nonchalantly. What fool would have a _woman_ on his crew?

“A wretch as young as you could never be a captain!” The captain snorted but his words stopped in his throat when the young man turned on him quickly, his eyes blazing. The captain suddenly felt he'd taken the wrong step. 

“I'm more of a captain than you'll ever be, my friend.” He smiled then, a small thing that was laced with such confident hostility it made the captain's blood boil.

“I'll make you regret those words wretch, and I'll start with carving out your tongue!"

The captain rushed him, but all of a sudden the young man was gone from his vision and there was the cold metal of the blade pressed against his neck. The young man tutted into his ear from behind him.

“Not a wise idea, I’d say.” He growled and pulled the captain over to the staircase leading down to the main deck.

“Attention, scum! _The Revolution_ has officially taken over your ship!"

A rousing cheer rose up from the young man's crew.

 

A rousing cheer sounded from the deck above him, and Aaron started to saw faster. Things were happening and he already knew they weren't good things. Just one more, Aaron, and you can get out of here and find your sister. A thump from the upper deck. Someone screamed. A woman screamed. Aaron cut frantically at the rope, not caring if he slit the meat of his fingertips anymore. He had to save his sister. 

A sudden bang from nearby made him jump and drop the glass shard. He scrabbled for it in a blind panic, his fingers grasping for any shard that would do. He was so close, he couldn't stop now.

“Check in the brig. If there's anyone down there bring them up.”

Fuck, _fuck_. He was so screwed now. He pulled at the rope with all his might as footsteps sounded throughout the room, getting closer and closer. With one extra tug and a few squirms, the rope broke and his wrists were free. Something clanged against the steel bars and he brought his knees in towards his chest instinctively, protecting his chest. He kept his hands behind his back, trying to discreetly find a large enough piece of glass to keep him armed. There was a muffled voice coming from somewhere nearby, and Aaron turned slowly towards it. He held a new glass shard between his fingers and clenched it. There were two voices now, but Aaron still couldn't make out what they were saying, or the exact location they came from. His heart was pounding, he hated being in the dark like this, his lungs aching for air and his body sickeningly warm all over. He heard what sounded like the door to his jail cell opening with a jarring creak, and he prepared himself to fight. 

“Christ, is that blood?” The voices were much closer now, and Aaron could feel the heavy footsteps through the wooden floorboards.

“Look what they did to ‘im.” Another voice tutted, and this one was closer, Aaron could feel the presence by his side. They were going to kill him.

“Do you think he's still alive?” The first voice was quieter this time, like they didn't want Aaron to hear. There was silence that stretched on for a few seconds. Something - a hand, Aaron would have realized if he had taken the time to think - crept up his neck. He gripped the shard and swung his hand upwards towards whoever was sitting near him, and earned a satisfying pained shout. 

“ _Fuck_ , he's alive!”

Aaron scrambled up and tried to run, but someone grabbed him and pushed him back against the steel bars. He groaned and listened as there was a commotion in the cell, and then someone grabbed his shoulder. The wound opened up instantly, and hot pain tore through his shoulder as he yanked himself out of the pirates grip and stumbled right into the other one. He felt the pair of arms that snagged him around his torso and it caught him so off guard, he and the pirate behind him went down together in a heap of groans. Aaron scrambled away quickly and stumbled blindly to his feet, his legs aching from being still for so long and shoulder pulsating with pain.   
“Grab him, John!” 

There was a muffled groan from the floor and then a shuffle of movement as someone grabbed Aaron's ankle. Aaron tried to shake them off but they pulled and he fell back down onto the floor. He kicked out with his boot and hit something, earning a loud swear and the relinquish of the grip on his ankle. 

“Son of a _bitch_!”

Aaron stood up and backed away from the voice, but was met with someone else at his back. Two hands grabbed his own wrists and tightened. He squirmed violently, but he could feel the adrenaline already starting to drain. The person forced the piece of glass out of his hands so that he was defenseless, Aaron heard it clatter to the floor.

“We’re not going to hurt you.”

Aaron paused for a split second, then jerked against their grip again. He wasn't buying it.

“We’re only trying to help you.” The person’s voice was softer now, and with each passing second Aaron could feel the fight start to drain out of him. If they were going to kill him there was no point in trying to fight. He was weak from being immobilized so long and he had no weapons. 

There was a groan from the floor and Aaron felt the presence shift behind him.

“Are you okay down there?”

“I think he broke my nose.” The one from the floor whined. There was a moment of silence before the one behind him replied:

“It looks fine, now get up.”

There was another groan and then the audible sound of someone pushing themselves slowly off the floor. There were a couple hushed whispers and Aaron strained to hear what they were plotting, but he could only make out a few words - ones that were so basic they did nothing to enlighten him. Footsteps sounded and Aaron was caught completely by surprise when the one behind him lifted him up off the ground completely. He writhed violently, not liking the position at all, especially when he realized they were taking him out of the brig.

“Stop squirming, for the love of God.” The person carrying him huffed irritably and shifted their arms around his body. He made a noise similar to a hiss through his gag and squirmed harder, planting a hand on the chest of his kidnpper and pushing as hard as he could, trying to break free.

It was much warmer on the main deck, he realized as a tiny amount of light filtered through the muddied fabric of the sack over his head - just that little bit making him squint. A seagull cried overhead, and he could hear the waves clearly now, splashing gently against the side of the ship every so often. There were voices too, muffled ones he couldn't quite hear, but some he thought he recognized. 

“John! What happened to you?” This new voice was female, and even though it sparked Aaron's hope for just a moment, he knew it wasn't his sister. _John_ must have been the one he cut with the glass and then kicked. He wondered who the other one was. 

“What the hell happened to him?” Another new, gruffer voice asked, obviously male.

“Torture methods, I’d say. Careful, he's very much alive.” The one carrying him replied, and then suddenly dropped him onto his feet, making Aaron stumble weakly before falling to his hands and knees. He yelped in pain and brought his hands up to his chest, the contact with the ships harsh, splintery floor sending pain lacing up through his arms. They were both surely bleeding now.

A pair of cold, delicate hands settled on his neck and touched the burlap before he flinched away. It only took a couple of seconds before the same hands were back on his neck, more hesitant this time, and he almost believed they meant him no harm.

“Don't take it off yet. I have questions.”

The hands pulled away slowly and Aaron looked towards the voice that had spoken. He snarled through the gag and stood up, but someone grabbed his hands quickly and held them behind his back. 

“Captain, you wouldn't mind telling me who this is would you?” There was a certain mocking tone to the word _‘captain’_ and Aaron felt a particular presence oddly close to his face. Someone shifted nearby.

“He's just a traitor, one of my finest turned against me so we threw him in a cell.” 

Aaron knew that voice. He knew that _fucking_ voice. That was the captain who had kidnapped him! And he was claiming Aaron was a traitor! Aaron squirmed against the vice grip that held him and yelled through his gag. 

“Doesn't sound like he agrees with that.” The first voice tutted and the presence moved away from him, off to his right. A hand touched the collar of his shirt and pulled at it, not nearly as delicate as the first pair. “Awfully expensive clothes for sea scum like you, wouldn't you say?” 

“Like I said, he was one of my finest. Treated him like my own kin, and he betrayed me.”

Aaron writhed and pulled violently until the person behind him got tired and wrapped an arm firmly around his waist to keep him in place. There was a stony silence, cut through only by Aaron's muffled grunts and the crashing of the waves.

“Well, if there is one thing I hate in this world,” something cold pressed tight against Aaron's throat stopping his squirming at last. It was a dagger, “it’s a traitor.”

Aaron swallowed against the metal, his body tight with anticipation for when the pain would come. They better make it quick, he thought. The dagger pressed in and Aaron took his last breath-

“But there is one thing I hate more,” The knife was gone as quickly as it had come, and Aaron was permitted to breathe again, “and it’s a coward.”

There was the unmistakeable sound of a dagger sliding into flesh and someone yelled in agony. 

“I would rather die than take the word of scum like you over the word of a prisoner. Let him go, Herc.”

The arm around his waist relinquished its grip finally and Aaron fell to his knees in a moment of ecstatic panic. His hands went to the burlap and he tugged desperately at it until the same pair of hands from earlier came back and finally helped him pull it over and off.

The sunlight was beautiful, if not blinding. He was forced to close his eyes as he tore the gag from his mouth and exploded into a coughing fit, bent over on his hands and knees. He was too caught up in coughing out all the pent up energy he didn't even realize that what he was mostly coughing up was blood. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and took a deep shuddering breath, feeling his lungs expand after being deprived so long. Fresh air had never tasted this sweet, and he'd never felt this kind of relief before. The air was so much better up here, it didn't smell like liquor and vomit and without the sack over his head, he didn't smell any blood. 

He realized someone was speaking, most likely to him, and looked up, squinting. The girl who had helped him pull the burlap off was not his sister, but instead a young woman looking around his age with pale skin and dark hair falling around her shoulders. She touched the wound on his forehead gently before lifting his hands and flipping them over so she could see those cuts too.

“What’s your name?”

Aaron looked away from her towards the one that had pressed the knife against his throat. He was tall, or at least he looked like it from Aaron's perspective, with a strong jaw and dark hair pulled back from his face. His hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, still sheathed, and his wide eyes were taking in every detail about Aaron's condition. He was nice to look at to say the least, and Aaron instantly scolded himself for thinking so at a time like this.

“Your name?” He asked again, quirking an eyebrow. Aaron cleared his throat.

“Aaron.” Another short coughing fit. “Aaron Burr.”

“Burr? As in the ones who own the trading charter?”

Aaron nodded, ducking his head as he coughed again. “Only son.”

“How long have you been down there?"

Aaron paused. “I don't know.” 

“A day and a half.” The captain grumbled from his place crouched on the deck, a hand clutching his stomach. The nice looking man turned to look at him and he held up a hand. “I ain't lying. We raided the estate yesterday morning.”

Aaron pushed himself slowly off the deck, the girl with dark hair holding him by his arm and shaking her head. “You're badly hurt, you shouldn't be moving.”

He appreciated it, but Aaron pushed her away gently. “I'm fine.” He looked down at the captain, feeling stupidly brave and confident at the fact he was wounded too. “My sister.”

The captain cocked his head.

“My _sister._ ” He repeated, louder and angrier this time. “What did you do with her?”

He glanced over at one of his crew. Aaron stepped into his view again making their eyes meet. 

“Where is she.” Aaron demanded, his anger was slowly starting to rise. The captain had Aaron's father's sword tied around his waist, as if it belonged to him. The silver hilt looked miserable next to a dirty thief of the sea. The captain grinned maliciously all of a sudden, and Aaron felt his heart drop. 

“Well, you won't like it.” 

Aaron grit his teeth, his eyes narrowing. 

“After the few of us had our way with her, we tied her up and left her for the sharks.” He laughed and then licked his lips meaningfully. 

Aaron lunged at him almost immediately, but the good looking man grabbed him by his waist and held him back.

“Easy, Burr. You're in no condition to fight.”

But Aaron couldn't hear anything other than the blood pounding in his ears and the voice in his head telling him he had to avenge his sister. His sister. The only one that had been there for him after their parents died, the one that had taught him how to dress properly, and cook for himself, the one he'd never seen cry. He thrashed violently and actually screamed, and someone was laughing, loudly and hysterically, filling his head. Everything hurt like hell, and it was like he was back in his cell, he couldn't see clearly and it was hard to breathe and he was practically deaf to anything other than his own ragged breathing. Something metallic caught his eye and he realized the guy that was holding him back had a pistol on his waist. Aaron stared and then grabbed at it, his fingers grazing the trigger. 

Someone shouted. Aaron aimed the gun at the captain - still laughing crazily, the sound filling his head - and pulled the trigger with a scream. The bang was sou loud it was all Aaron could hear. The man dropped him out of surprise and instinct, and he fell to his knees with the smoking gun still held in his hand. When he finally managed to clear his vision, he looked towards the captain. He was laying limp on the deck, a dark spot on the center of his head and blood trickling from his mouth. _Dead._ Aaron had killed him. He let the gun fall from his hands and clatter onto the deck, his hands shaking. 

A gull cried. Aaron slowly got onto his feet and walked over to the dead body. He looked down at it and was surprised that he felt no remorse at all. He wondered if he had gone insane. He was overcome with grief for his sister, _God_ , his poor sister, he should never have left her up there all by herself, but he couldn't find the strength to cry. He unconsciously reached down and unhooked his father's sword from around the corpses waist, looked at it in his hands, then hooked it around his own. He looked down at the hilt, and then looked up at everyone around him. They were all staring at him. 

And they all stared as he passed out cold too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consistent uploading time? Don't know her
> 
> Burrens, angst, implied sex, and stuff you know the drill

“He is awfully pretty.” 

“Hell yeah, you could say that again.”

Alexander took the cigar from its place between his teeth and blew some smoke out into the air nonchalantly as John looked down at Burr appreciatively. He was asleep in their makeshift infirmary, his wounds cleaned and bandaged by Eliza. 

“Nice fighter too.” John murmured and nodded from his place on the edge of the infirmary bed. Alexander scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, I can tell by that gash on your cheek.”  
John punched him in the arm, then touched his bandaged cheek gingerly. “Oh, shut up would you! He wasn't fond of you either!”

“He wasn't too fond of any of us at the moment.” 

John hummed his agreement and silence fell as he sauntered back over to his own bed across the room, and fell backwards into it. Alexander stared down at him for mother moment or two, taking in the sight of his closed eyes, his jaw, his lips, his shoulders, the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

“Do you think he'll live?” Alexander took a long drag out of his cigar and then breathed it out through his nose. John made a noise of thought from his bed and shifted.

“I doubt it. But if he does, we might have to keep him.” He chuckled a little, the laughter rippling out of his chest and hanging in the air. “The man’s a beast.”

Alex nodded, walked over to the bed pushed John's feet out of the way and sat down. As John threw his legs over Alexander’s lap, Alex sighed.

“I call him.”

John sat up, his face alight with an amused smirk. “You can't call him! That's not how it works Alex!”

Alex laughed. “It's how it works when I play.”

“Love is not a game, my friend.” John took the cigar from Alex’s mouth and placed it in his own, taking a long breath in as he laid back down. He held the cigar between two fingers and puffed out a large plume of smoke, then stared at it quizzically. “How do you make the rings? Like, the smoke rings?”

“I'm not telling you.” Alex leaned over and yanked his cigar from John's mouth. He put the cigar back in his mouth, took a long drag, and breathed out a smoke ring. It dissolved into a shapeless gray cloud quickly enough, but it did catch John's attention. 

“How do you do it?” John propped himself up on his elbows, smiling this time.

“It's a secret.” Alexander regarded him with a disdainful look, and it earned him a playful knee in the stomach from the man below him. Alexander made a strange chain of noises between a laugh and a cough and a wheeze, and it made the mood in the room much lighter, despite the barely conscious man lingering between life and death in the bed across from them.

As the two of them fell into a comfortable, lazy silence, with Alexander occasionally letting John take drags from his cigar, Alex wondered if Aaron - what a lovely name - would live. Eliza said the chances were slim, but she had done everything she could to help him, and he had already survived a day and a half in a pirate brig. 

“I can't even fathom what he's been through.” Alexander whispered to no one at all, some deep part of him wishing for Aaron to wake up and hear him. He saw out of his peripheral that John had propped himself up and was looking at him from lidded eyes.

“Don't forget why we do this, Alex. We-”

“I know, we fight for those who can't fight back, I know.” He turned to him and scrunched his nose up. “You need to stop acting like I don't know that, I’m supposed to be the captain.”

“Well maybe you should act like it, Alex.” John laid back down and smirked at his sullen expression. Alex rolled his eyes but leaned back against the wall, let the cigar hang from his mouth lazily, and then closed his eyes.

 

His eyelids were heavy when Aaron pulled them open and found himself staring at glossy, dark brown wood at least six feet above his head. He blinked once, twice, then inhaled, feeling his aching chest expand. The air smelled like smoke and salt. His muscles whined in pain, and his head felt strangely tight, but there was no blood in his eyes and he felt oddly...clean. He moved his forearms towards his sides and braced them against the unusually soft mattress, pushing himself up slowly. He was in a bed, a rather nice one, which was surprising, considering what he remembered. His hands went to his throat, were there was bruising from the coarse fabric of the burlap, and he realized his hands were unusually stiff. When he looked down, he realized that they had been freshly bandaged. He wondered if the rest of his wounds were like that.

He touched his shoulder - he had been stripped to his breeches, which he would have been embarrassed of if he wasn't alone in the room - and found another similar bandage there. As he pushed the covers down around his ankles, he found bandages around the backs of his legs. His hands went to his forehead - still throbbing faintly - more bandages. He turned and threw his legs over the side of the bed, scooted forward, and looked up. 

And he wasn't alone

There was another man sitting in the bed from the man across from him, a cigar in his mouth. He had freckles - a bandage similar to Aaron’s obscuring the ones on his left cheek - and curly hair hanging into his face and around his shoulders, and he was staring at Aaron silently. The only thing he had on were breeches and a loose dress shirt hanging off of one shoulder. He was absolutely covered in freckles, from his collarbones to his shoulders and even his hands. He pulled the cigar from his mouth and breathed out some smoke - he was the cause of the smell - and grinned at him.

“Well, good afternoon.”

Aaron stared at him uncomfortably. He opened his mouth and then cleared his throat, but it turned into a coughing fit. When it continued for another few seconds, the man got up.

“Here, I'll get you some water.” He moved over to the right of Aaron's bed, and when he looked up, the man was pouring water into a glass out of a small pitcher. Aaron took it from his hands and drank greedily from it, letting the water soothe his headache and his throat. Once he was done, he handed back to the man and signaled for more. He spoke as he poured.

“How are you feeling?” He handed Aaron the refilled cup and waited for him to finish. 

“Like hell.” Aaron grumbled, his voice not sounding as rough as he thought it would. He looked down into the empty metal cup and breathed deeply. The man laughed and sat down next to him on the bed, crossing his legs in front of him and leaning up against the wall. He stuck out a hand.

“The name’s John Laurens."

Aaron looked at the hand and then up at that freckled face. If he remembered correctly, John was the one who had been victim to most of his blind attacks. Aaron took his hand and shook it, but nothing could have prepared him for John raising his hand to his lips and kissing each one of his knuckles lightly. Aaron pulled his hand away after a moment of confused, shocked staring. John laughed breathily and pulled away from him, and the air in the room became instantly tense. Aaron looked at the cut on his cheek and blinked a couple times.

“Does it hurt still?”

“What?”

“Your cheek.” Aaron motioned vaguely at John's cheek, then watched as his own hand went up to touch the area. “I cut it. Does it hurt at all?”

John let Aaron touch the bandage for a moment, then smiled when his fingers lingered for what was probably a little too long. “Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty strong.”

“How long has it been?” 

“Only a day.” John took another prolonged drag from the cigar and let his head thump backwards as he breathed it out just as slowly. “Though in the condition you were in, we expected you to be out longer.” 

“Where are my clothes?” Aaron looked around to see if they were somewhere nearby. He was slightly uncomfortable with this attractive young man who had kissed his hand and let him caress his bandage for a strangely long amount of time. 

“I believe Hercules took them to patch them up, but here-” He got up abruptly, and moved over to a small dresser in the corner of the room that he hadn’t even known was there until now. He started to get up after him, but John waved for him to sit back down. “No, love, I’ve got it, just sit down.” He said it in such a polite way that it made Aaron feel like he had no other choice, so he just sat back down. 

As John got out a shirt from one of the drawers, Aaron took a moment to look out a small window on one wall, and found himself staring out at the expanse of a cyan tinted sea. There were only a few clouds in the light blue sky, and the waves were shining white with the light of the sun. He became aware of the sound of waves hitting the side of the ship, slow and deliberate, and for a moment it seemed like the only real thing there. 

“Here.” 

Aaron turned and looked up at John, who was holding a folded up dress shirt in both hands. Aaron took it and muttered a ‘thank you’ as he pulled it over his head, going carefully since the muscles of his shoulders were aching and he could feel the wound opening up. It wasn’t until he was straightening out the shirt over his chest and John had already sat back down next to him that the thought hit him.

“Oh my god!” Aaron jumped up from the bed so quickly it made John flinch and almost drop his cigar. “You’re a pirate!”

John looked shocked for a moment and then his face softened. He started to get up, placing his cigar in a nearby ashtray as he did so. “No, Aaron, listen to me.” 

“Get away from me.” He spat, backing away.

John's hand touched Aaron’s arm. “We’re not like-”

“You murdered my sister.” He tripped over his feet, he stumbled.

“Aaron, _no_ -”

“You burned my parents alive.”

“No, Aaron we did not-”

“You _did_.” Aaron's voice broke and he stumbled again, almost falling until John grabbed both of his forearms and steadied him. He needed someone to blame his shitty life on. Someone that wasn't himself. Aaron tried to wrench his arms away but all of his struggles stopped when John yanked him forward into a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around Aaron's torso and he perched his chin on Aaron's shoulder. Aaron stood completely immobile for a moment or two, then slowly let his hands go to John's back, and his face go to John's neck. He smelled of smoke and just faintly of tropically sweet coconuts. 

They stayed like that for a little bit, listening to the waves hitting the ship over and over again. John rubbed his back soothingly, and Aaron knew this was probably a violation of some sort, he barely knew this guy, but he really needed to be held right now. Apparently he needed to be held for a long time.

“Do you feel better?” John asked him after a long time, and it was an even longer time before Aaron nodded slowly. “We’re your friends, Aaron, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re only trying to help you.”

Aaron nodded, and stayed silent even when John pulled back and looked at him curiously. “You should lie down.” He said, and Aaron wondered if he really meant it. Aaron turned and looked at the closed door a little ways away. Peeling himself slowly out of John's arms, and ignoring the ‘Aaron, wait-’ that followed, walked over and opened the door. 

The sun was high in the sky, telling him it was somewhere around noon, and the breeze was mild and pleasant. The wood wasn't as rough on his feet as he anticipated, but was oddly smooth for what looked to be a merchant ship. As he walked out further onto the deck, he realized they must have been far out into the sea, for they were surrounded by water. As far as he could see, it was just the blue sea, in all directions. 

“So, he lives!”

Aaron turned and looked up onto the quarterdeck, and found the same young man from before staring down at him, leaning over the railing and cocking his head. 

“How are you feeling, soldier?”

Aaron made his way over to the stairs that led to the quarterdeck and slowly mounted them, feeling his legs ache in the place behind his knees. There was someone standing at the steering wheel, a tall man with the broadest stature Aaron had ever seen and skin so beautifully dark the night itself seemed to flow from him. He smiled at Aaron as he reached the deck, but there was something behind it, like he knew something Aaron didn't. It might have been pity, looking back on it.

The same girl with the dark hair from earlier immediately rushed over to him, taking him by the arm and looking him up and down.

“You shouldn't be up yet. You should still be in bed, your wounds-”

“Where are we headed?” 

The young man looked towards the one at the steering wheel, then looked back to him. “Back to your estate. We should be arriving shortly.”

“What?”

“Your home. We'll drop you off and then be on our way.” He picked himself up off the railing and waltzed over to the back of the deck, looking out across the water with some strange sense of authority. Aaron stared at him, then remarked sharply:

“I'm not going back there.”

This had quite an effect. The man whirled around to look at him indignantly.

“What do you mean?”

“I have nothing to go back to.”

All three of them went silent. The man fumbled over his words, it was obviously a first for him.

“But your parents-”

“My parents are dead. And so is my sister.” He looked around at each of them. They all avoided his gaze. “My uncle is my only living relative and he'll kill me when I return.”

“Aaron, he would be overjoyed to know you're alive.” Eliza touched his cheek gently.

“You misheard me. If he found out I let pirates into the estate,” Aaron looked over to the young man. They locked eyes. “He would _kill_ me.”

The sound of the ocean calmed him and washed over the silence, making things seem less tense. To Aaron at least, everyone else probably thought he was insane. 

“Fine then. Welcome to the crew.” The young man smiled.

“That does not mean I wish to be part of your crew!”

“Well it's either that or we take you to your death.”

“Alexander!” The dark haired girl - Eliza must have been her name, if he remembered correctly - turned on Alexander. He raised his hands indignantly.

“Well, it's true!”

She narrowed her eyes and he sighed. 

“Come on.” Alexander moved towards him, and the man at the steering wheel laughed softly.

“Let's get you something to eat.”

 

Soon, Aaron was seated in the captain's quarters, at a small table in the corner of the room. In front of him was a feast of all kinds of foods, fruits, breads, cheeses, and a keg of wine. He stared at it unwillingly, his stomach aching to be filled, but his heart denying this kind of treatment. His sister had been raped and brutally murdered by pirates, and here he was, wounds wrapped and treated, with a full meal in front of him.

He didn't deserve this. 

“You may eat it, you know.”

Aaron turned and looked up at Alexander, who was standing next to him expectantly. He was very attractive, now that Aaron was looking at him with clear vision, he was rather stunning. He had on tight black trousers of the latest fashion, which in all made his lower half stand out, and his chest looked narrow yet strong. There were a couple braids in his hair and if he looked closely, he could just see the hint of a tattoo through the loser collar of his shirt.

“It's not poisoned if that's what you're wondering.” His voice - rough around the edges yet gentle - captured Aaron's attention and he looked back up before looking at the food. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He looked up at Alexander as he moved to sit across from Aaron. “Why? You could have killed me-”

“Not all pirates are cold blooded brutes, my friend.” Alexander sat down in the chair across from him and propped his feet up on the table. They stared for a few moments. “My crew and I help those who cannot fight for themselves. Though we were proven wrong with you, we fight for the helpless.”

_‘I am ever so helpless, you have no clue.’_

“You should eat. You'll need strength.” 

Aaron stared at the food. He felt sick with hunger, but somehow he felt like he deserved this. He deserved to feel worthless. 

But he was so very weak.

He grabbed a piece of bread and dug in.

 

That night he lay awake in the infirmary, tossing the events of the day around in his head. It was silent except for the waves and John's gentle snores. It was just him and his thoughts. His mind replayed what had happened in the infirmary that day, while Eliza had rewrapped his wounds. It had been just the two of them, with her behind him, tending to his shoulder. He had remained silent the entire time, hoping she would leave soon so he could grieve alone.

“It's alright to cry, you know.” She had said, as if she could read his mind. He had glanced back at her, but said nothing. “No one would think you were weak, if that's what you are worried about.”

He had stayed silent. Crying would do nobody any good. His sister was dead and now he had to live with the guilt of it. It was his fault. 

“I have two sisters myself, you know.” She hummed after a little while. “Love them more than anything.”

“Really?” He had asked tentatively asked a moment later, as she moved to replace the bandages on his hands next.

“Of course. I couldn't imagine my life without them.” She had slowly taken the bandages off, being careful with the last layer as to not upset the wounds. “I can't imagine what you're going through.”

“Grieving would do me no good.” He had answered her earlier question rather than regarding her statement. “Nothing good comes from tears or sadness.”

“But tears are just water, aren't they?”

He'd stayed silent.

“And don’t trees and fruit need rain to grow?”

More silence. She rewrapped his hands. He cried silently. Once she was done, she pushed herself up onto her knees and hugged him, letting him cry into her shoulder.

“But you mustn’t forget that while everything needs rain to flourish, they also need sunlight. Nothing can survive very long all alone in the dark, Aaron. Don't shut the light out.”

John rolled over in his bed. The wind shifted. Aaron craned his neck to look up at the silver moon, shining out from a bed of dark clouds pregnant with rain. He rolled onto his side, towards the window, and lost himself to sleep as he waited for the rain to come.

 

The days went by uneventfully. Aaron found out from the same man who was at the steering wheel the first day - his name was Hercules, which was oddly suiting, Aaron wondered if he chose the name himself - that they were headed to a popular island where sailors stop to gamble and drink in between missions. When Aaron had asked why, Hercules had glanced off to the side and smiled as he wrapped the measuring tape around Aaron's waist.

“We’re picking someone up.”

“Someone of importance, apparently?”

He only shrugged, and sighed. “He's a close friend of mine.”

Aaron understood silently, and found it absurd that a man with this broad and strong of an appearance could blush and fluster like schoolgirl. “Oh, I get it.”

“Get what?” Hercules turned on him suddenly, looking defensive yet strangely vulnerable.

“Nothing, I just- nothing.”

Hercules remained silent for a moment or two, and Aaron suddenly worried if he'd crossed a line, but then he said:

“We’re just friends.”

Aaron made a conspicuously disbelieving noise of understanding, and Hercules thumped him playfully on his good shoulder, making him laugh. Hercules smiled as he set the tape aside, and marked something down on paper with a quill.

“It will take me a while to repair your clothes, I hope that's alright.” There was a tinge of an Irish accent in his voice, very faint but he could hear it.

“Not at all.”

 

Three days passed, and Aaron’s wounds healed gradually. The ones on his hands were deep and would need to heal a lot longer, but the wound on his forehead - which turned out to only be a bit of split skin - and the ones on his legs were just starting to fade. He'd started to grow more comfortable with the small crew, despite missing his home each night. He would lay awake at night and listen to the waves, and he would realize that he missed the sound of crickets by his window, the sound of the windchime his mother had made. The infirmary beds were soft - soft enough for John to stay in the infirmary longer than he needed to - but he missed his own bed with its down comforter. 

And he missed his sister.

He couldn't help but think about all of this one night as silence hung in the infirmary. Neither of them were asleep, John wasn't snoring and Aaron never got sufficient sleep in the first place, but the air remained thick and heavy and silent. John rolled over in the bed across from him, and Aaron turned his head. Their eyes locked from across the room. 

“Can't sleep?” Aaron whispered, and John shook his head. They were silent for another few moments.

“I hear you cry at night.” John muttered, and when Aaron looked back over he had averted his gaze to the floor. “Do you think about your sister? Or your parents?”

Aaron stayed quiet.

“Sorry,” he said again after a lengthy silence, “I just thought I’d ask.”

“I think about my parents every day,” Aaron sighed eventually, “But more so now that my sister is gone. She was the only one I had left.” He paused for a while before he said: “It’s my fault too.”

“If I were her, I wouldn't want you to blame yourself.” John sat up in bed. “I know it sounds like bullshit, but it's the truth.”

Aaron rolled over in bed, away from his voice.  
“I know it's easier to say you could have done something to stop it, but in the end it was the pirates that did it, not you. Regret will do nothing for you except break your heart.”

It did break his heart in the end, but it also felt like it was helping a whole lot. 

 

The next day after that, Aaron had a novel experience. 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed in the early afternoon, when the door opened. He looked up, expecting to see Eliza coming in to check his wounds, but was royally surprised to see Alexander standing in the doorway, holding his father's sword. Aaron looked at the silver hilt resting in the black leather sheath, the sapphire glittering like the sea. He'd completely forgotten about it.

“I believe this is yours.” He closed the door behind him and walked slowly over to his side. Aaron looked up at him.

“My father's, thank you.”

"Was he the one who taught you to fight?"

"He passed before he could, so my uncle hired a teacher."

Alexander nodded and leaned it up against the wall next to Aaron's bed. “We’ll be reaching our destination by tomorrow night.”

“That's good. You'll be rid of me then.”

“What do you mean?” Alexander looked down at him, and Aaron shrugged.

“I can tell I'm being intrusive, and I thank you endlessly for being so gracious and patient.” 

“No one ever said you were being intrusive-”

“I can tell.”

“You're very welcome here, Burr, trust me. Probably more than you realize.” He sat down next to Aaron on his bed. Their shoulders touched. When Aaron looked down, he noticed the black ink on the inside of his arm. There were several dashes of them, in tally-mark fashion. Alexander noticed him looking and looked down to.

“What are those for?” 

“Those count the number of days I stayed as a prisoner in the brig of a pirate ship.” He sat back and rolled his sleeve all the way up, revealing a full sleeve of diverse tattoos. Some were symbols, others were just black rings around his bicep, some were indecipherable to Aaron. “I tried to cover them up with more tattoos, but they're still visible.” He laughed.

Aaron touched his arm gingerly, dragging his fingertips down the curls and edges of the elaborate ink. “What do they mean?”

“Well, most of them are protection symbols. This is one Hercules did for me,” so the man was a tailor _and_ a tattoo artist? “It's a Celtic symbol for strength. And these are moon glyphs,” he pointed to a series of dots and elaborate lines. “They symbolize hope and will.”

“And this one?”

“It means luck.”

Aaron laughed. “Does it work?”

Alexander smiled. “I’d say so. It did bring me you, after all.”

Aaron went dead quiet and looked up at him. Alexanders face had flushed considerably, but the smile was still there. The room was silent, and Aaron's palm was still pressed against Alexander’s bicep. No one had ever said anything like that to Aaron before. Did he really think it was lucky that he met him? Aaron - a man that had lost everything but his sanity, even though that too was draining fast. 

“Really?” Aaron whispered after a long silence, hating himself for how small he sounded, how broken and scared. Alexander laughed and looked away bashfully before glancing back and looking him up and down. Another second passed before he leaned up finally and brushed their noses against one another as Aaron's eyes closed and their lips slid together. 

He jerked back at first, but not before he felt the heat of Alexander's breath and skin and then he slid right back into it. He needed to feel something other than cold for once, he needed to feel alive. So he leaned back in and let his grip on reality slip as Alexander moved his tongue between his lips and put a hand on his thigh. He'd never been kissed before, at least not like this. He'd been kissed once by a girl who he hadn't really liked but hadn't known how to say no to, twice by a man who'd he'd been with for only a week, but neither of them knew their way around a mouth like this. 

His lips were incredibly soft, Aaron realized as he moved them again, his other hand coming up to rest on his cheek. Aaron had let him in rather quickly, and to make up for it, pressed his own tongue against the man's lips. Alexander gasped, his jaw dropping and his hand sliding further up Aaron's thigh, sending lightning shooting up his spine. He could feel Alexander coming undone along with him, he could feel his breaths becoming faster, more ragged, and he could feel the kisses starting to get desperate and sloppy. His hand was sliding back and forth on Aaron's thigh, a desperate attempt to find some friction and get a reaction. And, God was it working. 

Aaron let his own hands leave Alexander's arms and go to his face, pulling him closer as he let a moan slip past his lips. Alexander whined and pulled his entire body closer, letting one hand slip down his neck and grip the collar of his shirt. He used his grip on Aaron's shirt to pull him in roughly, before he moved his lips up to Aaron's cheekbone and then down his jaw and his neck. He moaned against Aaron's skin, hot and completely wrecked. The sound set Aaron's skin on fire and sent molten lava through his veins. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and in his chest and in his groin most of all, and he was shaking all over. Alexanders hand on his thigh had moved to his groin, and he pressed in, listening to the way Aaron whined and bucked into it. Aaron's hands slid down the plane of Alexander's back as his mouth kept working at his neck and his hand twisted and grappled between Aaron's thighs. All of this was so good, so so good, Aaron had never gotten this far before and he loved it, in that moment it seemed like it was only the two of them, their heat and passion confined only to the walls of the infirmary, like nothing could possibly-

The door opened.

Alexander jumped off of him quickly, and the sudden lack of heat on heat made Aaron gasp.

John looked between the two of them, skin flushed and lips swollen and clothes disheveled, he twisted his cigar between his teeth and grinned. “Well, that certainly didn't take long.”

Alexander rubbed a hand over his face and looked down as he walked out briskly, shoving John against the door as the freckled man laughed. Aaron grabbed the pillow from the bed and pressed it over his lap, a desperate effort to hide his...excitement. John shut the door, still smiling faintly and waltzed slowly over to Aaron's bed before sitting down next to him. They sat in tense silence for an extravagantly long minute.

“So, did he use tongue?”

 

That night at dinner, Aaron sat between John and Eliza, as always. There was soup boiling over a fire, and kegs of wine and beer being passed around. Alexander was sitting across from Aaron, with the fire between them, watching his face light up as he laughed, the golden light from the fire making his skin glow. The alcohol had made his emotions looser and his face warmer, his voice louder and sloppier. He shoved John playfully as he laughed, looking incredibly amused with the story John was telling. They were all laughing along with him, and even Alexander laughed softly and shook his head. 

Aaron raised his leg of wine to his lips and was about to take a swig when John took it from his hands and raised it his own lips, grinning. Aaron thumped his thigh playfully and John laughed again. Alexander rolled his eyes and glanced away. 

“So, Aaron,” Hercules spoke up next to Alex once the laughter quieted down. “What was the rich life like?”

Aaron groaned. “Pretty awful, if I’m being completely honest.”

“Bullshit.” John murmured and Aaron sent a sideway glare at him. 

“Really, I was always treated differently because of it. Everyone was always like ‘oh shit, it's the rich kid, no one talk to him’. And my uncle was an asshole.” 

“Oh, you poor thing.” John mocked, pouting and reaching down to pinch Aaron's cheek. Aaron swatted his hand away and grinned. 

“I’m serious! He was always so...so touchy about everything, and just- ugh, he was awful.”

“Bet you're glad to be away from him.” Alexander spoke up, and Aaron looked over at him, looking slightly surprised. John glanced between the two of them and glanced at Eliza.

“I am.” Aaron nodded after a moment. “It's one of the good things to come out of this whole mess.”

“I'll drink to that.” Eliza raised her small flask before reaching down and squeezing Aaron's good shoulder. He smiled up at her and grabbed the flask next to him and raised it to his lips. Aaron looked up at Alexander over the fire, and suddenly Alex could feel the heat in his cheeks. And it wasn't just from the flames. The look in his eyes made it feel like something was going to happen, like this was the calm before the storm.

They continued to drink and laugh for a while longer, Alexander continuously feeling his heart pick up each time Aaron glanced over at him. Something about the orange flames reflecting off those deep brown eyes and the way the light made his cheekbones and jawline stand out even more. Alexander couldn't stop thinking back to the events of that morning, the taste of Aaron's mouth, the way he'd opened his mouth for Alex almost immediately, the feel of him. Alex had never been this addicted in his life.

Well past the time the moon had risen, Hercules stood and stretched. 

“Well, I’m going in for the night. Try not to make too much noise, you guys.”

After a little while more, they put out the fire and decided to head in. It was strange without the entire crew there, John pointed out as they walked towards their separate rooms. Eliza reminded Aaron to get plenty of rest if he wanted his wounds to heal quicker, the usual nightly routine, as she headed below deck. John followed her down, the first time he'd be sleeping in his own bed rather than in the infirmary since Aaron had arrived. As Alex opened the door to his own room, he looked up. Aaron was leaning over the railing of the quarterdeck, looking up at the stars.

As if he could tell Alex was watching him, he looked down at him and smiled. Then he patted the place on the railing next to him and beckoned Alex over. Alex's legs moved of their own accord up the steps, his eyes never leaving Aaron's face, as if in a trance. He eventually found his spot next to Aaron's body, and shivered at the heat that was radiating from him. After a minute of silence, Alex spoke up quietly, afraid to break the delicate silence.

“What are you doing up here?”

Aaron said nothing, but reached over and placed his fingers under Alex's chin. They felt like fire against the coolness of his skin. He tilted Alexander's chin up slowly, until he was looking up at the sky too. It was one of the perks of being alone at sea like this, there were no street lamps to block out the light of the stars. The black sky was dotted with millions of tiny white lights. 

“They're beautiful, aren't they?” Alex turned to look at Aaron when he took his finger away, slowly so that Alex felt the drag of them on his jaw. “We use them to navigate.” 

“How did you learn?”

“I read a lot as a child. There was this one book that talked about navigation and I took a liking to it.”

“Hmm.” Aaron hummed in response, just leaning on the railing and staring at him like he knew something that Alex didn't. So Alex figured he'd ask him something.

“Are you drunk?”

“No.” Aaron responded immediately, then paused, furrowed his brow. “I don't think I am. If I were drunk, you'd know it.”

Alexander smiled. “How'd I know?”

“‘Cause I’d probably already be in your bed.” Aaron held his gaze for a moment, then looked away silently. Alex felt the heat in his cheeks before Aaron even finished his sentence. He stepped even closer, and felt Aaron tense up.

“You think I could only get you in my bed if you were drunk?”

“I don't think it, I know it.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asked, and before Aaron could open his mouth, Alex leaned over, buried his face in Aaron's neck and inhaled deeply. He smelled like smoke. And very faintly of honey. It was intoxicating. He pressed his lips to the place where his neck met his shoulder and relished in the shiver it elicited from Aaron.

He slid his hand over Aaron's stomach until he was gripping his hip. He trailed his parted lips up Aaron's neck and jaw and felt a hand move to his back. He pulled away to try and slow his heart rate and the two of them locked eyes. Aaron swallowed.

“I think I may be able to convince you.”

“I think you may already have.” Aaron murmured, then leaned in to connect their mouths. It was slow at first, they were both unsure and hesitant, afraid to pull up that hot energy from earlier that day. Aaron's mouth was so warm and he tasted like fine wine - the good kind Lafayette always smuggled onto the ship when he was there -and Alex slowly felt himself falling deeper and deeper. Both of Aaron's hands, warm and wide, were on his back now and they pulled Alexander in closer. 

Aaron pressed in desperately, and Alexander could tell he was new at this. The way he moved his lips were slow and cautious, and he pulled away a millimeter after each one, making sure what he'd done was okay before diving back in. For some reason, it made it all so much better. Alex smiled and laughed breathily, and he realized what he'd done to late, Aaron was already pulling away.

“What? Why are you laughing?” He huffed out, his breath making gray clouds in the cool summer air.

“Nothing.” Alex cleared his throat, then smiled.

“I'm sorry, I’m not very experienced with this.” Aaron started to slide his hands off Alex's back and Alex shook his head frantically.

“Aaron, I laughed because you were cute. You know, the way you kiss me nervously like that. No one's ever really nervous around me. I like it. It's nice.”

Aaron looked at him, surprised, and Alex hoped he believed him because it really was nice. It meant Aaron actually cared about how Alex was feeling, he wasn't just looking to get himself off by kissing abrasively and harshly. He wasn't even using any tongue yet and Alex already felt more turned on than he'd ever been. 

“Oh.” Aaron said quietly. He stepped back in. “Should I continue then?”

“I would like that very much.” Alex sighed and leaned towards him, his eyes already half-closed in waiting. A second passed before those full lips were back and grazing his before gathering enough confidence to make full contact. Alexander slid one arm around his shoulder to pull him down closer, smiling against him when Aaron let his tongue trace the outline of his bottom lip. Alex parted his lips to invite him in, and Aaron obliged quickly, the hesitancy quickly starting to dissipate. 

Alex's heart skipped a beat, maybe even two or three, when their tongues slid together and Aaron made a soft noise deep in his throat. He could feel the two of them starting to heat up, becoming that flaring ball of passion from earlier. Their noses were starting to bump, and their teeth were starting to knock, their breath was coming in shorter, more ragged breaths. One of Aaron's hands moved off of Alex's back and up to his hair, where he started to undo the tie. He let Aaron dig his hands through the dark locks, massaging the scalp and tugging slightly as he went. Alex wanted to pull another soft noise from him, so he but down on his bottom lip to see if that would work. Aaron's mouth dropped and he whimpered deliciously. It was close enough. 

He pressed his thumb into the bone of his hip as he licked over the indents his teeth had left in the soft meat of Aaron's lower lip. He could feel the air around them start to heat, and his own excitement beginning to build way down low. He thought he felt Aaron's hands shaking as he moved them lower to massage the base of Alexander's skull, making him moan quietly. He pulled away for a moment just to breathe, as Aaron placed kisses to his cheekbones and mumbled something. 

“Did you say something?” Alexander panted, his thumb pressing in again in hopes of earning another eager whimper. He isn't disappointed.

“I said, ‘take me to your bedroom’.”

So he did.

He took Aaron by the hand and together they stumbled down the quarterdeck stairs and laughed their way to the captain’s quarters. He brought him into his room and pushed him gently down into the bed before climbing on top of him. He held Aaron's face between his hands and could almost feel the desperation radiating from, the need to be wanted. He told Aaron to just focus on him.

So Aaron did.

 

“So.”

“So…”

An hour later, and the moon had reached its peak of the night, and the waters were quiet and calm outside. Aaron was staring up at the ceiling of Alexander’s quarters, all wrapped up in bedsheets in the captain's bed. Alexander was laying shoulder to shoulder with him, the places where their skin touched were warm and the places where they didn't were cold despite the blankets. Alexander shifted, and more parts of their skin came together and exploded with warmth. 

“We should…probably talk.” Alexander’s hand met his under the cover, and he took it, interlocking their fingers. The heat was back in Aaron's face in seconds.

“Okay.” 

Alex rolled over onto his side, placed his other hand onto Aaron's chest, felt the pulse of his heart. “So...we pretty much just had sex, right?”

“Well, yes I think I’d call that sex.”

Alexander laughed against his shoulder, and Aaron smiled before forcing himself to look over at him. His cheeks were still flushed pink and there were small little bruises decorating his neck and chest. His hair was tousled from the places where Aaron had gripped it, and there were fading red marks along his chest. 

“So…” Alexander finally said, making Aaron blink. “I just thought maybe we should talk about...where we stand right now.”

“Well...I certainly don't want to leave your bed at the moment.”

“No, no,” Alex laughed, “I don't want you to leave either. I think I want you to stay for a while.”

“We can talk in the morning, if you would like that better.”

“That sounds good to me.” Alexander sat up, kissed Aaron's forehead and leaned over to put out the small lantern on the bedside table. Aaron rolled over onto his side to look over Alex's shoulder and out the window. The lantern went out and the golden glow disappeared with a small puff of smoke. Alexander rolled back into his arms and Aaron squeezed him until he giggled and squeezed him back. 

They stayed like that for a long time, and Aaron realized it was the first time he'd felt good about himself in a long while. As his hands ran slowly through Alex's hair, and Alex dozed against Aaron's shoulder, Aaron watched the waves out on the sea. 

“I've always wanted to be on the sea like this.” He whispered, not expecting Alexander to hear. But he did, surprisingly, and he even shifted a little to look up at him.

“Really? Why didn't you?” 

Aaron hesitated, then decided they were past being scared now. Aaron had really put himself out there already, with the whole stripping-naked-beneath-another-man thing. 

“My parents died in a pirate raid when I was really young. My mother was the one who woke me up and got me out of the house with my sister. I still remember how brave she looked, even though our home was burning before her eyes. She took me outside and made me hide with my sister in the bushes by the shore as she ran back in to get our father. We never saw them again.”

They were both silent for a very long time. Alex dragged his hand slowly up and down Aaron's bicep as he breathed out against his shoulder. 

“I’m very sorry, Aaron. I really am.”

Aaron nodded because that's what he did whenever this happened. But it felt real this time. Like Alexander actually pitied him. 

“I hope you know we’re not those kind of people.” Alex leaned back to look up at him before reaching up to touch his face gently. Aaron smiled and turned his head to kiss his palm and then his knuckles. 

“Yeah, I figured after all that ‘you're so good’ stuff a few minutes ago.”

Alexander laughed and thumped him on the chest weakly. 

“Do you remember the fire at all?” Alex asked after a few more minutes, and Aaron took the time to think about it. He was so young, he only remembered what it felt like and faintly what it looked like. He remembered the smell of the smoke, the sound of the crackling wood, the feel of the heat on his face as his mother carried him, how refreshing the air felt once they were out of there. He remembered seeing the flames rise up towards the night sky. He remembered the silhouette of his mother running back towards the flaming house.

He didn't remember the pirates though.

He remembered his uncle telling him about what had happened, how the pirates had been after their family’s money. He had always figured he was too young to remember any of it properly. 

“Bits and pieces. A lot of what I remember is what my uncle told me. I was two when it happened.”

“That's fair.” Alexander responded, then pulled Aaron's head down to his neck as he sighed. “Don't dwell on it too much, just breathe now.”

So Aaron did. He breathed in Alex's scent of sweat and smoke and sleep, closed his eyes and let himself drift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive got like 80 oneshots on the way so look forwards to that shit
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the lack of hamburr in this one, that comes (hah) in the next chapter ;)
> 
> Next chapter won't be up for a while cause I haven't written any of it yet oooooopsss :')
> 
> anyway kudos and comments make my day <3


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